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At the risk of sounding like a broken record, what the hell is happening?
Chapter5
A not-so-welcome to Redleg
THREE WEEKS LATER
MIA
If looks could kill, I’d have been long dead by now.
Not a great start for my first official day at my new job.
When Cal walked by my office this morning, he did a double take and glared at me with so much vitriol that it felt like a dagger to my heart. Neither of us spoke. We just stared at each other for six, maybe seven seconds. And then he stomped off, grumbling to himself.
I’ve spent the last three weeks relocating from Virginia to Florida.Silly me to hope he’d use that time to get over the shock of my appearance at Redleg.
Needless to say, he did not.
I expected as much, but it still chaps my thighs.
Once I take my seat, Peggy clasps her hands in front of her and smiles warmly. “Do you need anything else, dear?”
“No, thanks, Peggy. You’ve taken great care of me. I think I’ll be fine.”
Everyone here appears to have a genuine affection for Big Al’s assistant, and I can see why. She’s a kind older woman with a grandmotherly vibe.
“My desk is right down the hall in front of Big Al’s office if you need anything. And my extension is preprogrammed on your phone. Don’t hesitate to ask me for anything.”
I flash a genuine smile. “I appreciate that.”
Before she departs, she adds, “Boss has you penciled in for ten sharp. Unless something urgent pops up, I’ll see you then.”
She squeezes my shoulder affectionately and strolls off in no particular hurry.
With a deep breath, I study my surroundings and try to center myself. The pounding of my heart drowns out the muted conversations and clack of fingernails across the keyboards from the cubicles outside my office.
It’s been a long-ass time since I’ve had a first day on the job, and my nerves are making themselves known.
Forcing one more calming breath, I shift my gaze to the bank of monitors on my spacious desk. All of them are pristine and shiny, ready to do my bidding. A new laptop with the Redleg logo on the lid sits waiting for me, along with two tall, high-powered tower desktop computers.
Big Al did a nice job of ensuring my specifications were met.
My office is darkly lit— the way I like it— with recessed lighting that I can adjust with a dimmer. There’s a climate control switch on the wall that affects the temperature in this room alone. And there are two boxes on the small worktable in the corner, both containing brand-new cooling fans. He even got me the fancy-ass ergonomic keyboard and mouse I asked for.
A touch of guilt hits me because I didn’t really need those. I can get by with standard stuff, but I needed to know whether he was as accommodating as he seemed. My intel pimp made me do it.
So far, I’m impressed by Big Al’s efforts. It reveals a lot about his character and how committed he is to the success of the company. From what I discovered during negotiations with him, conversations with Shep, my online fact-finding— some may call it snooping— and this little test, it’s a safe conclusion that my new boss is willing to do what’s necessary to provide for his staff.
Which is more than I can say for the management team in my former role at the CIA as an information specialist.
It had become anevery man for himselfsituation at the company— that’s what we called the CIA to alleviate suspicion and prevent an unintentional slip when in the field by calling it the agency, or heaven forbid, calling it the CIA.
It’s going to take a bit to downshift from that mentality and accept that someone here has my back.
After setting up my workstation and ransacking the supply closet for stationery and other related supplies, it’s only nine-thirty. Now I have nothing to do but kill time until ten when I meet with Big Al.
Me and idle hands? Dangerous.
